


dark goes to therapy

by fleourians



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Other, the relationship isnt really romantic idk but i might as well post it under that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleourians/pseuds/fleourians
Summary: Dark is having a crisis, and you have had enough.
Relationships: Darkiplier/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	dark goes to therapy

**Author's Note:**

> yes i know i do not write markiplier fanfiction normally.... this is something i wrote last year and got too embarrassed to post and now im putting it here. dark is a character that i love a lot but god he needs to get his shit together and a nice hug. if you are coming from the markiplier fandom and have never seen my face on here before please do not look at my other fics it is all kpop and silly <3 have a good day

You’ve barely made it through the door when your ears start ringing.

Jesus. He's here again. At some point you assumed you would get used to Dark showing up every once-in-a-while, but you were still filled with a certain disdain whenever you came home to his imitation of tinnitus.

The thing is, it's not even annoying anymore.

In fact, it's starting to get concerning.

Dark usually showed up whenever you were with Mark. You remember one of your first (and worst) encounters, where Dark unceremoniously whisked you away from a date with the other side of his coin and proceeded to threaten you with the tact of a teenage boy who'd just been broken up with. The next encounter in the sewer was much more elegant, it seemed he'd finally calmed down, but what he said was still the same: Mark is bad, I am good, join me, he doesn't deserve you. If there was one thing Dark had excelled at, it was consistency.

Him visiting you ten times in the last month was, in fact, not in line with that consistency.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by him finally materializing. This was usually the part you weren't supposed to see, the part he'd set up far in advance, but he's been sloppy lately, and so you watch as his body reconstructs itself from the void. Once his self-summoning is finally over, he stands in faux elegance above you, eyeing you up and down. You can tell when he's genuinely ready for your encounters and when he's faking it, and today, it seems to be the latter.

"So. I see you've come back to me."

"I literally haven't," you grumble. "This is my house, I came back to my _house_."

An unimpressed look fills his eyes. "My, so sassy. Did _he_ teach you that?" His scowl tells you exactly who he's referring to.

"I haven't even seen Mark in, what, three months?" You retort. 

"But he still... affects you."

"Yeah," you sigh. "That's how people work, Dark. Why are you here?"

He cocks his head. "Same as always. To convince you."

"No, you're not," you respond, unenthused. "If you were here for that, you'd be pulling out the whole shebang- the dark hallways, the freaky pictures, the spooky voices. Where's any of that?"

Dark scoffs. "Listen, you can't pull theatrics like those every time, see, they have to stand out. Every time does not equal standing out."

"Right." You stare at him for a moment, finding out how to phrase what you'd been needing to tell him ever since he started his frequent visits. It's blunt, but you don't want it to be mean. If it's mean, you know he won't accept it.

"You need help, man."

He strikes a sly smile. "Precisely. That's why I need you, to help me-"

"No," you cut him off. "Not that kind of help. I mean the counseling, get-your-feelings-out type of help."

His face becomes one of pure confusion. It's an emotion you've never seen him express, at least, not without a touch of anger added to it. "What?"

"You show up whenever Mark is around, right?" He says nothing, but you know it's true. "That's one of your things: you're always dramatic, you always want me to join you, and you always show up around Mark. It has been three months since I was even near Mark, and you haven't pulled out your stupid props yet. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

His eyes are starting to squint. "Are you saying something's… wrong with me?"

"I'm saying something's off," you respond, treading as carefully as you can. "You're inconsistent now. I know you got messed up from everything in your past, that's already enough reason to get you help, but now you're unraveling. As much as I hate to admit it, I don't want that to happen."

He stares you down before responding. "Do you really think I can be 'helped'?" He's drawing out his words, and you know you're in for it. "I don't think you understand. Mark took everything from me. There is nothing you or I can do to change that."

You're starting to get frustrated. "Yes, I know you can't change the past, but if you put some effort in, you can change the present," you get out, as calmly as you can. "And no, the effort shouldn't be following Mark around and harassing whoever he talks to. You're just reminding yourself of the pain; you're _not_ his shadow."

He’s silent for a moment. You get the feeling that you’re about to die. 

“You don’t know anything about me, do you?”

For whatever reason, that really gets you. “Wh- Don’t know anything about you?! Every time you come here, you sit here and monologue to me about your trauma! With rehearsed scripts and everything! I know everything there is to know about you!”

Dark’s brows furrow, and you can feel anger surging out from him. “That’s only what I show! There’s so much you don’t know, so much you’ll never know-”

_“I know enough!”_

Well, now you’ve done it. His shell is starting to break, projections of suffering emanating from his figure. You're about two steps away from being found dead on your living room floor in a few days.

But you have one idea. If you do it, you might stoke his rage even more, but there's the slightest chance that you won't. That you'll make him understand.

You step forward, wrap your arms around him, and brace yourself for certain doom.

…

It never comes. 

Dark stops, and you still feel how his shell breaks and cracks, but it's not anger. It's confusion, shock, warmth, sadness- it's everything all at once, everything except anger.

And then he cries.

It starts as a sniffle, then a quiet cry, then breaks out into loud sobs. He hunches over, head nestling into your shoulder as he bawls his eyes out. As you glance at his face, you see that his tears aren't water- they're thick and black, like a mix of blood and tar. Unfortunately, you're wearing a white shirt, but you can take a few stains if it means helping him.

You don't know how long the two of you stay there. Seconds blend into minutes that blend into hours, as often happens around Dark, but at some point, he vanishes, and you're left alone in the shadows of your living room. 

You don't see him again.


End file.
